Are We Dead?
by A Romantic Enquiry
Summary: One-shot of Esme observing Edward, and thinking about her own past, when he comes home on the day he first meets Bella. (Stand alone. Not part of my Carlisle/Esme series.)


I remember very keenly the first day that I noticed. The first day that I knew things would never be the same. The first day that I began worrying about them. The first day when I began believing that somehow this had to work out—that it was going to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

Carlisle was in his office going through one of his latest medical journals when the children returned home from school. I had been in the living room, examining a pile of patterns that I was considering for new fabric to cover the couch. They had come bustling in, Rosalie and Emmett first. I could see that Rosalie was in a foul mood, which, sadly, didn't surprise me. Emmett seemed jovial as always though and yelled a greeting at me before they ascended the stairs. Alice came lilting in next with Jasper on her heels. He too appeared to have had a hard day. I smiled warmly at him, avoiding bringing the sensitive topic up. I knew he had a tough time being amongst humans all day, but he was trying hard. I knew part of his effort was to make Alice happy and I had resolved that there was nothing wrong with that. After all, there were times when Carlisle was the only thing left motivating me.

Edward was brooding when he came through the door. It wasn't out of place to see him sullen. In fact, I had worried about his somber moods and lonely habits for a very long time. But today, he was different. He almost looked as if he was stalwartly trying to hide being shell shocked. I knew that look. I knew that look from the inside.

The way Edward had looked coming through the door, not even noticing me sitting there it seemed, made me keenly recall how I had felt I the moments after waking when Carlisle had turned me.

I think that under any other circumstances, my savior and future husband, at the time, would have been charmed in some way by my reaction. I remember blinking open my eyes and things where no longer dark-nor were they foggy or blurred as I expected to accompany the kind of pain that I was suffering. The first thing that I saw were Carlisle's eyes and I was immediately fascinated by them. They were a deep golden shade, but I saw spots of crimson cropping up in the irises, as if tiny pinpricks drawing blood and bleeding out the color over the golden were occurring. I noticed though that there were no visible capillaries in his eyes, they were a solid, unnatural white around the irises that looked like they were bleeding from the inside.

The sights and sounds and smells of life overwhelmed me. I gasped and sat up, something akin to vertigo, but not quite that, swam through my head. Carlisle wasn't breathing, I noticed. _How can you not breathe? And how did I even . . . ? Where am I?_

I glanced around, I felt adrenaline, fear, something like that, piercing through my veins, riding the pain.

"Dr. Cullen?" I questioned. I remembered him. I had recognized him immediately as the physician who had treated my broken leg when I was a teen. He had just flashed in mind hours ago, when the rest of my life had ran like a fast moving picture behind my eyelids, right as I had fallen over the edge of the cliff.

"Are we dead?" I questioned, almost with enthusiasm.

Dr. Cullen put one hand on my shoulder gently and eased me back. I let myself drop back onto the pillows willingly, ignoring the searing pain. _Focus, Esme,_ I thought to myself, taking a deep breath. The breathing didn't help though. It only made things more chaotic.

He shook his head. "We are not dead," he explained. "You had a very nasty fall," he started.

"I know," I replied bluntly. "I meant to. If we're not dead then . . . the hospital?"

"No," he said. "My living room."

"Ah, I see," I replied, looking around finally and trying to concentrate. It was, in fact, a cozy, typical living room, but I still didn't know why I was there. "Did you rescue me?"

"You could say that," he replied.

Then, that is when it hit me: the panic. I tried to suppress it, but I wanted to scream and cry. For a moment, I imagined myself dramatically pounding my fists against his chest, yelling at him for doing it. I did not want to be alive. I did not want this—a fleeting moment of this enigmatic man, who I had secretly idealized for the better part of a decade, being my hero only to return me to the horrors of my life. I tried, though, to give him a moment. He looked at me like he was hurting just as bad as I was, actually.

_What had happened to us?_ I wondered darkly as I waited for his response.

How I had felt in that moment, how Carlisle had looked at me for that seemingly endless moment—the first of many between us—was precisely how Edward had looked when he walked in from school. And he turned and left the house before I had even finished my musing.

After I heard his car leave the driveway, I walked upstairs, entering Carlisle's office and walking softly over to his desk. I took the book out of his hand as I slid onto his lap and he smiled, kissing me warmly before his expression sobered, noting the concerned look on my face.

"I think you should talk to Edward," I said quietly, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Why is that?" he asked, running his hand over my hair.

"I think he's in love," I said tersely, trying not to express any emotion.

We were quiet for a moment; for, as much as we had hoped for his happiness, we both knew the implication of this. And it was not going to be easy for anyone.


End file.
